Caligula

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The boy crept stealthily through the low bushes, eyes darting right and left for any sign of the enemy. Today he imagined himself the last survivor of the battle of the Teutoburg Forest, the only man from the three massacred legions who could still complete his mission and kill the Cherusci king, Arminius. He came to the edge of a small clearing and stopped. There was his quarry. He drew the small dagger that doubled as his legionary's gladius and charged the Cheruscan hordes, smiting their champions one by one. There! And there! Die, Arminius! Die for your treachery!

When the victory was complete, he stood among the fallen bodies of his enemies, breast heaving beneath the light armour that protected his chest. Except for the helmet, he wore the complete uniform of a light infantryman of the Twentieth legion: red tunic, mail vest, a thick belt that held loops for his equipment, leather greaves covering his shins, and sandals. The uniform had been specially made by the quartermaster to fit a six-year-old and when he wore it his heart filled to bursting with pride.

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